


Straight Through the Heart

by mrs_fish



Category: due South
Genre: Drug Use, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 03:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_fish/pseuds/mrs_fish
Summary: Ray must stop a serial killer before he claims his final victim.





	1. Chapter 1

This drama is rated PG-13 for language, violence, drug use, and some adult themes. Whew! The only thing I left out was sex. It also has major sap and a smidgen of humor.

The time frames in the story are based on the following: a 1962 birthdate for Fraser; graduation from high school in 1979 (he is exceptionally bright); graduation from college in 1983; and one year's training at the Depot.

I've tried to make this story as accurate as possible, but I do know of one error. Northwestern University's medical program is not associated with Cook County Hospital. Other than that, I think I've gotten all my facts correct. Please let me know if I haven't.

These characters aren't mine. I'm just obsessed by them. Besides, it's the little voices that keep making me write these stories -- blame them, not me! Translations for the Italian phrases are found at the end of the story. Comments and criticisms are welcome and encouraged.

Title: Straight Through the Heart  
Author: Mrs. Fish  
Fandom: Due South  
Pairing: none  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: See above  
Status: Completed  
Summary: Ray must stop a serial killer before he claims his final victim.

Disclaimer: This story is written for the private entertainment of fans. No infringement of any copyrights held by Alliance Communication or CTV is intended. This story is not published for profit, and the author does not give permission for this story to be reproduced for profit. The author makes no claims on the characters or their portrayal by the creation of this story.

* * *

Prologue  
Yukon Territory, 1986

Constable Benton Fraser approached the cabin cautiously. According to his source there were two occupants -- James McLeod, 41, and his 15-year old son Tim. The elder McLeod was suspected of manufacturing illegal drugs and selling them through a distribution network that included Canada and the United States.

Fraser took cover in a stand of pine trees. He dropped to one knee and peered through his binoculars. Smoke was coming from the cabin's chimney -- someone was home. He unslung his rifle and clicked off the safety.

"This is the Royal Canadian Mounted Police," Fraser yelled. "Come out with your hands in plain view."

Inside the cabin James McLeod stood stock still, his heart hammering in his chest. He was a slight man, 5'8" and 130 pounds, with light brown hair and sea green eyes. He glanced around the cabin, then went to the window and peered out. They'd found him more quickly than expected. Well, he wasn't going to make it easy. He had no intentions of spending the rest of his life in a Canadian prison. He turned to his son and said, "Tim, I want you to go outside. Do what the police say."

"Dad, no. I'm staying right here with you."

McLeod walked over and placed his hands on Tim's shoulders. "Tim, listen to me. I promised your mother I'd take care of you; so far I have, but if the police start shooting... I love you; I don't want anything to happen to you. Tim, go outside now."

Tim went to the door, opened it a crack, and yelled, "I'm coming out, don't shoot." He turned to his father and said, "I love you, dad," then stepped onto the porch, hands in the air.

Fraser had the boy in his sights. "Keep your hands in the air, son. Just walk towards my voice."

It seemed to take forever for the boy to get to him. "Up against the tree," Fraser said. The boy looked so young and fragile. He was no more than 110 pounds, and at 5'5", downright skinny. Fraser wondered when the boy ate last. He checked for weapons, found none. He turned Tim around to face him. "Is you father inside?"

Tim glared at the mountie defiantly. "No. He went out early this morning. He didn't say where he was going."

"Don't make this more difficult than it has to be. I don't want to hurt your father... Tim, is it? He broke the law; that carries a heavy penalty. You understand that, don't you? I promise nothing will happen to your father while he's in my custody."

"My dad didn't do anything wrong! What don't you just leave us alone?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Fraser turned towards the cabin. "McLeod, it's over. Come out with your hands over your head. You had enough sense to send your son out, now you do the same."

Fraser's answer came via a rifle shot. He pulled Tim behind a large tree before taking aim.

Tim grabbed Fraser's arm. "Noooo... please..."

Ben looked into Tim's green eyes, saw the pleading. "Tim, talk to your dad. Tell him to step outside. Tell him you don't want to see him hurt... or killed -- anything to make him come out and drop his weapon."

"All right. Dad... Dad, listen to me. Please, come out. Please. I don't want to see you get hurt. I love you. Please... Come out and drop your gun. He won't hurt you. He promised. Dad... Dad, answer me."

James McLeod fired two more shots in Fraser's direction. Ben took careful aim, trying to judge where McLeod was standing. He fired. The bullet traveled through the window, shattering one of the panes. It struck some test tubes and flasks, spilling their contents onto the wooden table beneath them. Liquid from one of the flasks seeped onto the floor. It ran down the table top and into the open flame of a Bunsen burner. The liquid ignited, quickly spreading flames across the room. Other chemical agents joined in the inferno and... the explosion was deafening. The shock wave knocked Fraser and Tim to the ground.

"DAD..." Tim tried to run to the cabin; the mountie held him back.

"Oh, god. Tim... I'm sorry."

Tim turned on Fraser. "YOU KILLED HIM, you son of a bitch! You'll pay for that." Tim launched a ferocious attack against Fraser and somehow managed to grab the rifle. He swung it, striking Fraser in the temple, knocking him unconscious. Tim raised the rifle, started to pull back the trigger... A gunshot changed his mind.

Tim turned at the sound. It was another Mountie -- an older one. Addressing the supine Fraser, Tim said, "You got lucky today; but you will pay for this. I swear to God you'll pay. If I have to track you to the ends of the earth -- no matter how long it takes, you'll pay for killing my father. Maybe not tomorrow, but someday. Someday..."

* * *

Chicago, Illinois  
July 1996

Frank Richardson stared out his 25th story office window, admiring the city lights below. He'd just finished closing a multi-million dollar deal with a Japanese conglomerate and was feeling pretty satisfied with himself. At 43, Frank was President and CEO of the largest import/export business in Chicago.

He walked over to the liquor cabinet and removed a decanter. The cut crystal reflected the office lights like twinkling stars. He returned to the window. "To me," he said, and raising the glass downed the brown liquid in one gulp. Frank placed the glass on the window ledge, glanced at his Rolex. It was 9:30; time to go home. He grabbed his coat, turned out the lights, and headed for the parking garage.

Frank's footsteps echoed off the concrete as he walked towards his car. He reached to unlock the door when something grabbed his ankle and yanked him off his feet. The fall knocked the wind out of him; sharp pain lanced his elbow and back.

A dark figure emerged from beneath the car. Frank looked up at his attacker. The glint of light on steel, swift arm movement, then blackness... a red stain spreading across Frank's white shirt. A grin crossed the killer's face. He reached in his pocket and removed a small box. Placing its contents in Frank's right hand, the attacker merged into the shadows and made his escape.

* * *

Detective Raymond Vecchio was not happy. First thing to greet him this morning was a flat tire on his beloved Riv; then a rock flew up and cracked the windshield. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, Lieutenant Welsh calls him in his office and lectures him about his 'many open cases'. But the topper was the new case Welsh assigned him. 'A murder, just great,' Ray thought. The last person he wanted to see at the moment was Constable Benton Fraser.

"Hello Ray," Fraser said cheerfully.

As usual Fraser had that silly grin plastered on his face, and that damned red suit! Ray really hated that red uniform. It was like wearing a big sign that said 'here I am, shoot me'. Sometimes Ray just wanted to rip that jacket off Fraser and tear it to shreds. He smiled at the image that conjured up.

"Uh, Ray," Fraser interrupted. He began squirming in the chair.

"Hiya, Benny." Ray continued reading the case file he was holding.

"Interesting case?" Fraser inquired, his foot tapping on the floor.

Ray put the folder down and looked exasperatingly at Fraser. There were times when Fraser was the most aggravating man in the world -- like now. Then again, he was also the best friend Ray ever had.

"I wouldn't call it 'interesting' Benny. I would call it case number 32 on my list of open cases."

"What type of case is it?" Fraser was twirling his Stetson in his hands.

"A murder. Frank Richardson, age 43. Owned and operated an import/export business. No witnesses, no apparent motive."

"Robbery, perhaps?"

"His wallet was in his back pocket, $200 inside. His Rolex was still on his wrist."

"Hmmm. Any evidence?"

"This was in his right hand." Ray handed Fraser a sealed plastic bag labeled 'EVIDENCE'. Inside was a small Canadian flag. Ray noticed the beads of sweat on Benny's forehead, and the slight flush to his cheeks.

"A Canadian flag? Was Mr. Richardson Canadian?"

"No, he was born and raised right here in Chicago."

"Anything else?"

Ray handed the mountie a second evidence bag containing a 3 x 5 index card. Neatly typed across its face was:

Sing a song of sixpence  
a pocket full of rye.  
Here's the first of seven  
who are about to die.  
Six together hold the key  
to the seventh's fate.  
See if you can find the answer  
before it is too late.

"An interesting riddle. Looks like you have a lot of investigating to do."

"Yea, I do." Ray looked closely at his friend again. "Benny, are you feeling all right?"

"Just fine, Ray. I just stopped by to remind you about the birthday party for Diefenbaker tonight -- eight o'clock sharp."

"I can't believe you're having a party for a wolf! And how do you know today is his birthday?"

"Well, actually it's not his birthday. At least I don't think it is. Today is the anniversary of the day Dief jumped into Prince Rupert Sound and saved my life. If it weren't for him, I'd be dead right now. I think that deserves a party, don't you?"

"No, I don't. I think it's stupid. What do I bring a wolf for a present -- a rack of lamb? Milk Duds? Maybe Little Red Riding Hood? Jeez."

Fraser glared at Ray, his bottom lip quivering. He reached out and grabbed the case file from Ray's hands; tossed it across the room. "Fine, don't come. See if I care. Who needs you anyway, Vecchio?"

"Benny, what's wrong with you?" He reached out to his friend; Fraser slapped his hand away. He was trembling.

Fraser stood and Ray grabbed his arm. He spun around, clutched Ray's lapels and threw him to the ground. "Fuck off, Ray." Fraser stormed out of the squad room.

Ray sat on the floor, his mouth agape, unable to believe what had just happened. He got up, brushed himself off, retrieved his case file. Looking around the precinct he said, "What, you never saw someone have a bad day?" He sat down at his desk and stared at the file, trying to calm his racing heart. He needed to have a long talk with Benny, but he should let Fraser simmer down first. That look in Fraser's eyes -- what was it? Anger? No... it was hatred. Pure hatred, directed at Ray. Yea, he and Fraser definitely needed a long talk.

* * *

"Star Pizza, may I take your order please?" The young girl behind the counter took all the information and entered it into the computer. "Your order total will be $14.24, and it should be there between 30 and 40 minutes. Thank you for calling Star."

Ralph McMillin walked in the side door 10 minutes later whistling a Beatles' tune. "Got some more deliveries for me, Jenny?"

"You bet, Ralphie. Here's the list. Now, what have you got for me?" Jenny gave Ralph a devilish grin.

Ralph handed Jenny the money he'd collected from his previous run. It was a usual Friday night -- busy as hell. Not that he minded. Busy meant money to Ralph, and money meant books and college tuition. Ralph had been going to school part-time the last two years. His parents couldn't afford the tuition, and he didn't qualify for any grants, so he had to pay his own way.

He gathered up the pizza orders, put them in the insulated carry bag, and took them out to his car. He looked at the addresses on the delivery list before starting off.

* * *

Ralph glanced at his watch -- 11:37. One more delivery and he was through for the night. He turned onto Division and began looking for 1276. After several blocks he found it.

He parked the car, got the pizza, and went into the building. Ralph climbed the litter-strewn stairs to the second floor and knocked on apartment 2D. An elderly man answered. "Star Pizza," Ralph said.

"Come in," the old man said in a shaky voice. "I'll get your money."

Ralph walked in and glanced around the shabbily furnished apartment. Floral print curtains hung over barred windows. Ralph wrinkled his nose as the smell of stale cigarette smoke and urine assailed his nostrils.

"Please close the door. I don't want my cat to run out."

Ralph closed the door behind him hesitantly.

The old man returned to the living room. "Here you go young man." He handed Ralph $20. "You keep the change."

"Why thank you, sir. I hope you enjoy the pizza. Good night."

Ralph turned and reached for the door knob. He was grabbed from behind. Sharp pain ran through his back; a strangled cry was cut off by a gloved hand over his mouth. The attacker spun Ralph around; plunged something into his chest. Ralph twisted and fell forward. The last thing he saw was the old man smiling down at him, a bloodied knife in his hand.

* * *

"Vecchio, we've got another one," Lieutenant Welsh said as he dropped a manila folder on Ray's desk.

"Another what, Lieutenant?"

"Body. A Canadian flag in his hand."

Ray opened the folder. "A pizza delivery boy? Only 20. Oh, god."

"Vecchio, this guy's already told us he's going to kill seven people. I'd like to nail him before he does."

"So would I, sir. I'll start working on this second case right away. Comparing it to the first one; trying to find a common link."

"You do that, Detective. Use every resource at your disposal, including Constable Fraser, if necessary."

"Yes, sir." Great. Most of the time Welsh couldn't understand why Fraser was even at the police station, or how he had time to help Ray solve cases. Now he wants Fraser involved? Ray took out the Richardson file and placed it above the McMillin one.

'What do a successful businessman and a pizza delivery boy have in common?' Ray thought. "Elaine, I want everything you can find on these two victims -- birth certificates, where they went to school, social organizations, girlfriends. Anything that could provide a common link to why they died."

"It'll take some time, Ray."

"Then I suggest you start right away. I want to stop this nut case before he kills again."

* * *

Fraser was depressed, and exhausted -- he hadn't slept the night before. Ray didn't show up for the party. Maybe he should have just told him the real reason he wanted him over instead of making up that story about his wolf. Last night was an anniversary, but not of the day Dief saved his life. It was three years ago yesterday that he and Ray had met for the first time. Fraser could hardly believe he'd been in Chicago that long.

He got out of bed shakily -- Fraser's head was pounding -- and looked around the apartment. The decorations were still up. He hadn't bothered taking them down before going to bed. Ray's present was on the table where he'd left it. Fraser picked it up: 'To Ray, the best friend I've ever had. Ben.' Fraser shook his head. 'Best friend indeed,' he thought. A wave of anger went through him. "How could you be so inconsiderate, Ray? So insensitive?" he yelled. He took the box and threw it against the wall. Taking a deep breath, Fraser went into the bathroom and began getting ready for work.

* * *

Elaine Bresbriss dropped a stack of printouts on Ray Vecchio's desk. "Here's everything I could find on your two victims, Ray. The microfiche copies of birth certificates and school records should be here tomorrow."

"Thanks, Elaine. You're the best."

"You better believe it, Vecchio. And, by the way, my birthday's next month; just in case you'd forgotten. I just love Opium perfume." Elaine smiled and walked away.

"I'll make a note of that."

Ray looked at the mound of paper before him. "I'm never going to get through this by myself. Wait, Welsh said to use every resource, even Benny. Of course! Benny will get through this in no time. He'll sort it, categorize it, analyze it, and find out what the victims had in common. I'll just run over to his place and pick him up. Besides, he and I need to talk about yesterday."

* * *

Fraser had just finished brushing his teeth when he heard the knock on his front door.

"Hiya Be..." Ray was cut off as the door slammed in his face. Ray knocked again, but got no response. He tried a third time; Fraser continued to ignore him. Ray did the only thing he could: he turned the knob, opened the door, and walked in.

The first things Ray noticed were the party decorations: red, white, and blue balloons hung suspended from the ceiling while tri-color streamers framed a large banner strung across the back wall. "Happy Anniversary Ray? Fraser come out here, we need to talk." When Fraser didn't answer, Ray continued, "If you don't come out of the bathroom right now, I'm coming in and dragging you out."

Fraser came out slowly, refusing to look at Ray. "So Benny, what's with the banner?" Fraser didn't reply. In fact, Fraser didn't even acknowledge Ray's presence. He stepped over to the closet, removed his uniform jacket, Sam Browne, and Stetson, and began dressing.

"Fraser, will you please talk to me?" Still no answer. "Ok, we'll do this the hard way." Ray quickly moved to Fraser, grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and pinned him against the closet door. "Talk to me, dammit! What the hell's wrong with you?"

Fraser pushed Ray away violently -- he was breathing rapidly. "You didn't stop by last night, Ray. Remember the party? The one you said was stupid? It wasn't a party for Dief - it was a party for you! Three years. We've known each other exactly three years. Remember when I walked into holding looking for 'Detective Armani'? Well, that was three years ago yesterday." Fraser was incensed. He went over to the banner and tore it down; began ripping it into pieces. He walked over to the window and picked up the present; threw it at Ray. "Here's your present. I hope you like it. Take it and get the hell out of here."

"Benny, I'm sorry. I didn't realize..."

"No, of course you didn't. Why should you? What do I matter? I'm just the, and I quote you here, 'most aggravating man in the world' to you. Someone you can use to help solve your backload of cases. Tell me Ray, do you and the other Detectives laugh at me when I'm not around? Joke about my uniform? Well, I AM NOT A JOKE! I am a human being with feelings and emotions, and I'm damned tired of being treated like some kind of freak by you! Now get out of my apartment, and don't come back. I don't need friends like you Vecchio. I don't need anyone."

Ray didn't know how to react; didn't know what to say. He'd hurt Fraser. That was something he swore he'd never do again. Ray looked at the box in his hands, then back at Fraser. "Benny," he began, but Fraser cut him off. "GET OUT!" Ray turned around and went through the door, leaving Fraser with his anger and pain.

* * *

Alvin Medrano yanked at the dandelion again. He'd been fighting with it for the last ten minutes, and he was losing. Pausing just long enough to mop the perspiration from his forehead, the 67 year-old retiree glared at the flower bed and resumed his battle. His weapon of choice this time was a spade. Alvin drove the metal deep into the soft brown dirt. He repeated this action several times, then began scooping dirt away from the pesky weed. Alvin thrust the spade into the ground just in front of his foe. Using the packed dirt as a fulcrum, Alvin slowly pushed down on the spade's handle and lifted the dandelion from the ground. He grasped his adversary and lifted it triumphantly, likening himself to Perseus after defeating Medusa.

Several glasses of water later, Alvin sat on his back steps and admired his handiwork. He loved working in his flower garden; took pride in it. Alvin didn't mind getting his hands dirty -- he'd been a school janitor for 45 years. He sat on the steps a few more minutes inhaling the floral bouquet, then went inside to shower.

Alvin wasn't the only one enjoying the scene before him. Jade eyes peered through binoculars, their gaze fixed on the old man. "Enjoy your garden while you can, because tonight..." his voice trailed off, an evil grin spreading across his face. He ran his tongue over his lips in anticipation, like a dog awaiting a bone. "Yes, tonight."

* * *

Ray walked down the stairs slowly, occasionally glancing back toward Fraser's apartment. That was the second time Fraser had lost control. It certainly wasn't because Ray had missed the party. There was something else bothering his friend, something much deeper. It was almost as if this weren't the real Benny, as if some doppleganger had replaced him, or else Fraser had started taking drugs.

Wait a minute. Fraser was acting like someone on drugs -- calm one minute, irrational the next. Ray had worked vice for six years; had seen a lot of hookers who were junkies. It was never pleasant when one of them got hold of some 'bad stuff' and freaked. One such young lady had almost ripped Ray's arm off while he was trying to cuff her. But how would Fraser get drugs, and why? When Geiger stabbed Benny in the leg, Ray practically had to shove the aspirin in the mountie's mouth for him to take them. "I try to stay away from non-prescription drugs," he had said. "Even it (aspirin) has side effects."

Ray spun around and took the stairs two at a time. If he was wrong, well, he and Fraser would have another fight. If he wasn't...

* * *

Alvin went to the pantry and took out a can of chili. He opened it and added the contents to the ground meat browning on the stove, along with some chopped onion. He turned the temperature to 'simmer', covered the pan, and made himself a salad. The TV was blaring from the next room -- the local news -- more violence and killing. Not exactly what Alvin wanted to hear with lunch. He finally turned the damn thing off. Alvin preferred the quiet anyway -- it was more conducive to digestion. After lunch he'd take a little walk, then a short nap before heading over to the senior's center.

Across the street in an abandoned building, another lunch was being eaten -- a cold sandwich and bottled water. A floor plan of Alvin's house was spread across a wooden table. There were penciled notations in several rooms; all exits were marked in red. A gloved hand reached down and traced a path through the house, stopping at the bedroom. A hunting knife pierced the blue print, imbedding itself in the table. "Tonight..."

* * *

Fraser was just leaving his apartment when Ray got to the top of the stairs. The mountie froze and just glared at him.

"I thought I told you to leave," he hissed.

"Benny, we need to talk. You're not yourself. Please, take a minute to think."

"There's nothing wrong with me. Now get out of the way before I sic Dief on you." Fraser grinned as he looked down at his wolf.

"Benny, I'm not moving."

"Your choice. Dief, attack!" Fraser pointed in Ray's direction. Diefenbaker trotted over to Ray, sat down, and looked up at him questioningly.

"Even Dief knows you're not thinking clearly, Benny. He's not going to attack me."

"Well, if he won't..." Fraser charged Ray, knocking him to the floor, as Dief scurried out of the way. Ben directed a punch at Ray's face; he connected. Ray grabbed Fraser's hands and tried to push the larger man off, but Fraser twisted out of his grasp. He pinned Ray's arms to the ground, then leaned close to the other man's face. "I'm going to enjoy kicking your ass, Vecchio." Ray looked into Benny's eyes -- they were glazed; his pupils dilated.

"Sorry I have to do this, Benny." Ray wrapped his legs around Fraser and rolled the two of them over. He freed his right hand and slugged Fraser as hard as he could. The contact with the mountie's jaw sent pain shooting through Ray's hand and arm; he heard the snap of breaking bones. Ray felt Fraser's body relax. His friend was unconscious. Ray extracted himself from Fraser, rolled him over, and managed to cuff him. Not an easy feat with one hand. Dief whined from the corner.

"I didn't have a choice. He'll be all right, big guy. Don't worry." Ray pulled out his cellular phone and called for an ambulance. Five minutes later the two friends were on their way to the hospital.

Fraser came around in the ambulance. He seemed disoriented at first, then he focused on Ray. His face contorted; pure rage emanated from his cerulean eyes.

"Just wait, Vecchio. I'll get you for this. If I get loose, you'll wish you'd never been born!" Fraser screamed at Ray while struggling to free himself from the stretcher. The EMT's had a hard time keeping him down.

"Benny, scream at me all you want. I'm just trying to help you. You'll thank me later. I hope." Ray's hand was really beginning to hurt. His left eye was swollen shut. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to ignore Fraser's tirade.

* * *

They managed to get to the emergency room without killing each other. Ray insisted they be treated together. Seven minutes after arriving, a white-coated doctor entered. He was about 5'11" and 160 pounds with a muscular build -- Ray figured he must spend a lot of time working out. He looked to be in his late 30's, with a head of thick, dark brown hair. The most noticeable feature about him, though, was his eyes -- deep pools of emerald -- which seemed to go right through you. Ray shivered involuntarily.

"Detective Vecchio?" the doctor questioned.

"Yea, that's me."

"Dr. Michael Sheldon. You asked for someone who specializes in the treatment of substance abuse?"

"Yes, I did. My friend here isn't behaving rationally. He's normally very quiet and polite -- it's a Canadian thing. I'd like you to take a blood sample and have it analyzed. Look for anything out of the ordinary."

"Does he take any medication on a regular basis?"

"Doc, he doesn't even take aspirin. There shouldn't be anything in his system. If you find something, I want to be the first to know. In the meantime, can you put him someplace where he won't hurt himself?"

"We can place him under observation in the psychiatric ward."

"I hate to do it, but it's for his own good. Here's the key for the handcuffs. I'd like those back when Fraser is released."

"Thank you, Detective. We'll take good care of your friend. Let me examine him and get that blood sample so I can take it to the lab. I'll send someone in to take care of you."

"Thanks. And doc... can you put a rush on it?"

"Sure thing, Detective." Dr. Sheldon examined Fraser as well as he could under the circumstances. He did manage to get a blood sample. Another doctor came in a few minutes later and set Ray's hand. While the cast was drying, two orderlies took Fraser to the psychiatric ward. Two hours after entering the hospital, Ray sat in the waiting room and called Lieutenant Welsh.

"Welsh here."

"Lieutenant, it's Ray."

"Vecchio, where the hell are you? Mr. Mustafi called and said you and Fraser were having a knock-down fight in the hallway."

"I'm at Cook County Hospital. And, yes, we were fighting. Fraser flipped out."

"What?"

"Fraser went nuts. He attacked me. I had to hit him and I broke my hand."

"Where's the Constable now?"

"Under observation in the psychiatric ward."

"You ok?"

"I think so. Could you send a car for me?"

"Sure thing. I'll send Huey."

"Thanks, Lieutenant."

"You want me to notify Inspector Thatcher?"

"Oh god, I forgot about The Dragon Lady. Would you mind, Lieutenant? I'd rather not deal with her right now."

"The Dragon Lady? I don't even wanna know. I'll make the call. You get back here so we can talk."

"Yes, sir." Ray hung up the phone and waited for Detective Huey.

* * *

Ray knocked on the Lieutenant's office door.

"Come in, Ray. Have a seat."

Ray sat down wearily. He let out a long sigh.

"How's Fraser?"

"I don't know. I couldn't face him again. The doctor said he'd call when he got the lab results."

"And how are you doing?"

"I'm ok, Lieutenant. Just a bit tired after everything that's happened."

"Well, take the rest of the day off. Go home and get some sleep. You look like hell."

"Thanks. Can I borrow Huey again? My car's still at Fraser's apartment. At least it better be."

Welsh smiled. "Just get out of here before I change my mind."

* * *

Ray walked in Fraser's apartment and closed the door. Dief came over to him and nuzzled Ray's hand with his nose.

"Hiya, Dief. Benny's gonna be just fine. You can come stay with me for a few days until he's feeling better, ok?"

Dief wagged his tail enthusiastically and barked his approval. The wolf wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to sample Mama Vecchio's home cooking.

Ray smiled and patted the wolf's head affectionately. He began looking around the apartment, hoping he'd find something out of the ordinary. He gave up after an hour. He took out his cell phone and dialed the precinct.

"Jack, Vecchio. I need a favor. Send the lab boys over to Fraser's apartment and have them dust for prints. I also want them to take samples of all the food in the fridge, the water, and anything else he could have ingested."

"You want them to do what?"

"Look Jack, if Fraser was drugged, chances are it was in something he either ate or drank. And since he never locks his door, it wouldn't be too difficult to gain access to the apartment. So, it's gotta be here somewhere."

"You know Ray, if it were anyone else but Fraser..."

"I know Jack. Thanks."

Ray grabbed Dief's food and bowls and put them in a paper bag. "C'mon, Dief, time to go."

* * *

The two orderlies wheeled Fraser to the elevator, then took him to the psychiatric ward on the eighth floor.

"Let me go," Fraser yelled. "You can't keep me here. I'm a Canadian citizen."

The head nurse walked over to the stretcher and laid a hand on Fraser's arm. "Ssssh, everything's going to be fine. We're here to help you."

"There's nothing wrong with me. Ray did this. He... he just wants me isolated so he can come back and kill me. Let me go."

The nurse turned to one of the orderlies. "Dr. Sheldon said to leave him restrained on the stretcher. Just wheel him into number three."

"You're making a mistake. I'm a police officer. You'll be sorry. Just wait until I get loose from..."

The orderlies closed and locked the door, cutting off Fraser's cries. He struggled against the restraints; tried to free himself from Ray's handcuffs -- he only succeeded in scraping the skin from his wrists. Ben's throat was raw from screaming; his head and jaw hurt where Ray hit him. He needed to think. Why was he here? Ray... Ray would pay for this.

Ben began to imagine all the things he was going to do to Ray when he finally got his hands on him. A smile crept across his face. It widened, and Fraser began to chuckle softly, then laugh. His laughter increased until it took on a maniacal quality, then abruptly ceased. Constable Benton Fraser lay perfectly still... and began to count the indentations of the white padded ceiling.

* * *

Alvin awoke and got out of bed slowly -- his joints told him he'd worked in the garden too long; his bladder told him he'd better stop dawdling. He closed the bathroom door behind him -- a habit he couldn't break, even though he'd been a widower for ten years. Alvin walked back into the bedroom and reached for the light switch. A gloved hand grabbed his arm and twisted him around. Alvin screamed, but the sound was cut off by something cold across his throat. Stabbing pain in his chest was the last thing Alvin remembered before everything turned black.

* * *

"Raimondo, cosa ti successo?" (1) Mrs. Vecchio asked, concern in her voice. Ray had just walked in with Diefenbaker, and she saw his injuries.

"It's a long story, Ma. Can you take this please? Thanks." Ray handed his mother the bag containing Dief's food and bowls. He went over to the kitchen table and slumped into a chair. "What a day."

"Tell me, mia figlio." (2) Mrs. Vecchio sat down next to Ray and put a loving arm around him.

"Fraser's in the hospital -- in the psychiatric ward. I put him there."

"What? What happened, caro?"

"I went over to his apartment today. I needed his help on some cases, and... well, we just needed to talk. When I got there he slammed the door in my face; then he ignored me. Finally, he just went crazy. He started screaming at me, tearing things down, throwing things. He tried to get Dief to attack me. Dief wouldn't, so Fraser did. We had a knock-down, roll-on-the-ground fist fight. I broke my hand when I slugged him. It just wasn't Benny, Ma. He... he scared me, especially in the ambulance. I hope I never see that look in his eyes again. It was pure hate, and it was directed at me." Ray looked down at the table; began brushing invisible crumbs onto the floor.

"Raimondo, Benton is tuo migliore amico. Your best friend, right? You would never do anything to hurt him. I know, and he knows. He'll understand."

"I hope so. Ma, I think... I think someone gave him drugs. That's why he was acting crazy. I sure hope it's drugs, cause if it isn't... Benny's gonna be in the hospital for a very long time."

* * *

Ray changed clothes and sat out on the front porch. Dief was asleep under the chair. Benny's present was sitting in Ray's lap -- he hadn't been able to open it. Just thinking about Fraser turned Ray's stomach into knots. He picked up the box and turned it in his hand; shook it lightly. Mrs. Vecchio opened the front door and joined her son.

"Still thinking about Benton?"

"Yea, Ma."

"What's in the box?"

"I don't know. Benny threw it at me. He said it was a present. He invited me to a party last night; said it was for Dief, but it was for me. Benny and I have known each other three years, Ma. Can you believe it's been that long? I can still remember the first time I met him. Boy, was I mad. I thought he'd blown my cover on a case, but it turned out to be an Internal Affairs sting. That was the first of many times he saved my butt. I'd forgotten the date. You'd think I'd remember something like that. I mean, Benny's my best friend, and... and..." Ray covered his face with his hands and began to cry.

Mrs. Vecchio put her arms around Ray. She just held him, not saying a word. After a few minutes he looked up. "Caro, are you ready to tell me what's really wrong? I know you're worried about Benton, but there's something else."

"I don't know. I never realized how much Benny meant to me. It goes beyond friendship. I... I can't put it into words."

"You love him, Raimondo."

"What!? Ma, don't be saying things like that out in the open. People will get the wrong idea."

"It's true isn't it? I don't mean love like lovers. You and Benton aren't lovers, are you?"

"Ma, I'm not like that and neither is Fraser. How can you even think such a thing?"

"Well, you haven't had a date for a long time, Raimondo. And you and Benton do spend a lot of time together."

"Fraser and I are not lovers, Ma. End of discussion."

"Ok. You love Benton, but not as a lover -- like brothers. Love like only truly close friends can have. Friends who have been through life and death together."

Ray paused before answering. "You're right. I never really thought about it that way before, but Fraser is more than a friend. He's become part of our family, hasn't he? A big part of my life anyway. And I guess... I guess I do... Oh god..." Ray began to cry again. He didn't stop for a long time. "I'm sorry, Ma. I guess everything that's happened the last few days has finally gotten to me."

"It's all right, Raimondo. Are you going to open Benton's present?"

"Yea." Ray carefully unwrapped the box. Inside, wrapped in more paper, were several stone carvings -- a polar bear, a wolf, and a raven. There was a note from Benny:

Ray,

There's an Inuit story to go with the carvings. It  
has to do with friendship and loyalty.  
I'll tell it to you, but only if you really want to  
hear it.

Ben

Ray smiled. "That's one Inuit story I'm actually looking forward to, Benny." Ray gave his mother a hug. "Thanks, Ma. I think I'll be ok now. I'm gonna call the hospital and check on Fraser, then go to bed."

"Don't forget him in your prayers."

"I won't. Goodnight."

"Buonanotte. Raimondo, tientelo caro, un uomo cosi non lo trovi piu." (3)

Ray went upstairs and called the hospital. He was relieved to hear Fraser had calmed down and was resting quietly. Ray cleaned up and put on his pajamas. He knelt down next to the bed, crossed himself, and said a few silent prayers -- most of which were for Fraser -- then turned out the light and fell asleep.

* * *

When Ray arrived at work the next morning, he was greeted by a stack of files on his desk. Elaine came over to him. "Those are the school records and birth certificates you asked for on your two victims."

"Thanks, Elaine. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could I get a cup of coffee, please?"

Elaine stared at Ray for a minute, her mouth hanging open. "Did you say please? Maybe Fraser is having an effect on you. A good effect. One cup of coffee coming up, Detective Vecchio."

Ray just grinned as she walked away. Fraser was having an effect on him all right. Ray just wished Fraser was there right now helping him sort through this stack of records. Ray sat down, grabbed the first folder, and started reading. One hour and forty-five minutes later, he still had no clue why these two people were murdered. They had absolutely nothing in common.

"Vecchio," Lieutenant Welsh yelled from his office. "Get over to Ridgeway and Rosemont. We've got another body."

* * *

Ray pulled up to the house. It was controlled chaos. The area had been cordoned off by uniformed officers. Ray saw the coroner's wagon in the driveway; an ambulance was parked at the curb. He was sure the forensics team was there, too.

He got out of the Riv and placed his badge on his belt in plain view. Ray walked over to one of the uniforms. "Who called it in?" The officer pointed to an elderly gentleman. "Thanks."

Ray went over to the witness. "Hi, I'm Detective Vecchio. I understand you found the body and called the police."

"Yes, I did. My name is Daniel Jackson. Alvin came down to the senior's center every day. We'd play checkers. When  
he didn't show up, I got worried and came over. He showed me where he keeps the spare key. I let myself in and found him. Why would anyone want to kill him? I just don't understand."

"Mr. Jackson, I'm sorry about your friend. I'd like you to come down to the station and make a formal statement. Are you up to it?"

"Sure. I'll do what I can. I just hope you find Alvin's killer."

"We'll do our best, Mr. Jackson. Thank you." Ray turned Mr. Jackson over to a patrolman to be transported back to the station, then entered the house. The forensics team was just finishing. "Where's the body?" Someone pointed towards the rear of the house. Ray made his way to the back bedroom, where the coroner was examining the body. "What have you got, Esther?"

"Hello, Ray. Stab wound to the chest and a slit throat. Guy didn't have a chance."

"Anything concrete I can use?"

"You'll just have to wait until I do the autopsy. Sorry."

"Thanks anyway." A member of the forensics team handed Ray an evidence bag.

"I understand you're collecting Canadian flags, Ray. Here's another one."

"Yea, very funny, Pete." Ray looked at the bag. Three murders now. This one probably didn't have anything in common with the other two either. He needed some real evidence -- a fingerprint, hair, anything to nail this guy. Ray turned around, got back in his car, and drove to the hospital. He needed to see Fraser.

* * *

Ray checked in with the eighth floor nurse's station. "I'm Detective Vecchio. Could you tell me how Constable Benton Fraser is doing, please?" Ray flashed the nurse his shield.

"You mean the mountie?" The nurse asked.

"Yea, the mountie."

The nurse went over and pulled Fraser's chart. "Let's see... He had a pretty quiet night. Doesn't look like he slept though. Seemed fairly coherent this morning -- complained of a headache and nausea. Dr. Sheldon removed him from the restraints and treated his injuries."

"What injuries?"

"Minor abrasions from the handcuffs he was wearing. Which reminds me... Here you are Detective." The nurse handed Ray a plastic bag containing his handcuffs and key.

"Thanks. Anything else?"

"No. The chart says continue observation until we hear from you."

"Can I see him?"

"Certainly, but I'll need to call an orderly just in case Constable Fraser becomes violent."

"That's not necessary."

"It may not be necessary, but those are the rules. Sorry, no exceptions for mounties. Just have a seat over there. It shouldn't be too long."

Ray nodded and slid into the hard, plastic seat. A few minutes later an orderly, more resembling a bouncer, came over to him.

"Detective Vecchio?"

"Yea."

"You can see Constable Fraser now. I'll be outside the door if you need me."

"Thanks."

The orderly unlocked the door and Ray entered. Fraser was sitting in a corner. His head was bent; knees pulled up close to his chin. Benny's arms were wrapped around his face.

"Benny..." Ray barely got the word out.

Fraser looked up at the sound of his friend's voice. Ray gasped. The left side of Benny's face was bruised and swollen. There were dark circles under his eyes -- eyes which were normally so alert -- now dull and sunken. The worst part was the expression on Fraser's face. Ray had never seen such sadness.

"Ray," Fraser choked and held out his hand.

Ray ran over and took the proffered hand in his. "Oh god, Benny. Are you ok? Let me look at you." Ray examined Fraser's face and wrists, then took his friend in his arms. "I'm sorry, Benny. So sorry. Please forgive me." Tears streamed down Ray's cheeks.

Ray felt Benny's arms surround him. He felt Fraser's body trembling; heard his sobs. They just sat there holding each other, needing each other, comforting each other. Neither of them said a word, yet both understood.

Ray kissed Fraser's forehead gently. "I love you, Benny. It's gonna be all right. I promise."

Fraser looked up at Ray, a puzzled look on his face. "Did you say you loved me, Ray?" His voice was harsh and raspy.

Ray brushed the tears from Fraser's face. "Yea, I did, Benny. I'm not ashamed to admit it. You're like a brother to me -- closer than my own brother."

"Oh, so you don't mean love like... like you loved Irene or Angie?"

"No Benny, not like that! God, you and my mother."

"What about your mother, Ray?"

"Nothing, Benny. Never mind. Feeling better?"

"Somewhat, but I have a terrible headache. Ray, what happened? How did I get here? I have only vague recollections of the past few days."

"I'm not sure what happened, Fraser, but I think you were drugged. You've been acting really strange. You attacked me, that's how you ended up here. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to put you someplace safe where you wouldn't hurt yourself or anyone else. I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"

"Ray, of course I forgive you, but there's really nothing to forgive. You were just doing what you thought was best. It's all right." Fraser took Ray's broken hand. "Did I do this?"

"Yea. I always knew you were hard-headed Benny, but I never realized how hard-headed."

"And your eye? It looks painful."

"Benny, don't worry about me. I'm fine." Ray smiled.

Fraser returned his friend's smile. "Can I go home now?"

"I don't know, Benny. Let me check with the doctor. If nothing else, I promise I'll get you out of the Psych Ward, ok?"

"Thank you kindly, Ray."

"I'll be back soon, Fraser." Ray got up and the orderly let him out. He looked through the window and saw Fraser curled up on the floor with his eyes closed, a smile on his face. "Take care, Benny." Ray went to find Dr. Sheldon.

* * *

Steve Franklin pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the perspiration from his face. It was only 10:30 in the morning, the temperature wasn't supposed to be ninety degrees. Normally he enjoyed being outdoors, but right now he would rather be working in Alaska in the dead of winter! Oh well, how did that saying go? Something like: 'Through rain and sleet and mmm... big dogs and Chicago summers... nothing will deter us from delivering the mail.' Steve laughed. Yea, it was something like that. He reached into his mail bag and took out the next stack to be delivered before continuing on his route.

* * *

Ray had Dr. Sheldon paged. It didn't take long for the physician to arrive.

"Detective Vecchio, I have the results of your friend's blood test. Why don't we go to my office and we can discuss them?"

"No, we can discuss them right here. Doc, what's wrong with him? Was he drugged?"

"I'm afraid so. Some form of amphetamine, probably homemade. There wasn't much in Constable Fraser's system, but based on his behavior yesterday, I'd say this stuff is pretty potent. It wouldn't take much to kill him."

"Oh my god. What happens now? Can you do anything for him?"

"He's here under your orders, Detective. As for a course of treatment, I'll have to run more tests, and examine Constable Fraser to determine the extent of the damage."

"Damage?"

"Detective Vecchio, I don't want to cause you any undue alarm, but depending on the purity of the drug, and the amount ingested, amphetamines have been known to cause damage to the heart, lungs, liver, and brain. Then there are withdrawal symptoms. These can include tiredness, anxiety, irritability, and depression. People can also have a long but restless sleep, often interrupted by nightmares. This is not something that can just be treated with a prescription."

Ray suddenly felt lightheaded. He grabbed Dr. Sheldon's arm.

"Detective Vecchio, are you all right? Here, sit down and put your head between your knees."

"Nurse, get some smelling salts and a glass of water for the Detective."

Dr. Sheldon broke the vial and waved it under Ray's nose. "Ewwww, that's disgusting. Take it away." Ray pushed the offensive item away.

"Feeling better?"

Ray felt a little embarrassed. "Yea, I... I think so. Thanks." He took a sip of water.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I just wanted you to realize the possible seriousness of your friend's condition. It's not something to sugar-coat."

"That's all right, doc. I want you to do everything you can for Fraser."

"Don't worry, we have an excellent treatment program here. He's in good hands. Do you have any questions?"

"Can you get him out of that padded cell and into a private room? After talking with him I feel awful about putting him there."

"I'll make the arrangements. There will be some paperwork for you to fill out, and we'll need a relative to sign the admission form."

"Fraser doesn't have any family. I'll get you the number of the Canadian Consulate. Ask for Inspector Thatcher. She'll get you a copy of the form naming me as his next of kin."

"I'll have the nurse bring you the forms to complete."

"Doc... thanks."

"He'll be fine, don't worry."

"Sure." The nurse brought Ray a stack of forms. It was worse than filling out an incident report. She took pity on him, though, when she saw how much trouble he was having trying to write with his left hand. They reached a compromise - - Ray dictated, and she wrote.

"Thanks for all your help, Cindy."

"No problem, Ray. Don't forget to call."

Ray smiled and left the hospital. Whew, it was hot! He glanced at his watch -- lunch time already. Where had the day gone? Well, he'd go back to the precinct and fill out more paperwork. Maybe Esther had finished the autopsy, and they'd get a clue about these killings. Well, he could hope.

* * *

"Hey, Vecchio, got something for you." Detective Jack Huey handed Ray an official looking report. "The lab results from the samples taken at Fraser's apartment."

"Thanks, Huey. They find anything?"

"Two sets of prints -- Fraser's and yours -- unless you count the wolf's paw prints. The water tested ok, although the lead content was a little high -- nothing dangerous though."

"What about the food?"

"Did you know that Fraser buys organically grown fruits and vegetables?"

"Not really, but it doesn't surprise me. I've never known anyone who eats so healthy. No wonder Dief wants junk food all the time."

"Everything else tested fine. No traces of drugs or any other toxins. Sorry."

"Damn, I was sure it was in something Benny ate."

"How's Fraser doing anyway?

"The doctor says it was amphetamines. He has to run more tests to see if there's any permanent damage."

"I'm sorry. He's gonna be ok though, right?"

"I hope so, Jack. Thanks for your help on this -- from both of us."

"No problem. Let me know if I can do anything else."

Ray stared at the report in his hands. Homemade drugs -- the doctor had given him a lead and he hadn't even made the connection! Vecchio, when this case is over, you are going to take a well-deserved vacation. Maybe even take up Fraser's offer to go salmon fishing in Canada. "Elaine, can you look up something for me, please?"

"Sure Ray, what do you need now?"

"Actually, it's what Fraser needs. Can you get me a list of people arrested within the last, say five years, for manufacturing methamphetamine or something similar?"

"Sure, that's an easy one. How soon do you need it?"

"Five minutes ago."

"Coming right up." It was five minutes, plus five minutes more, when Elaine handed Ray the printout. "Bad news, Ray."

"Don't tell me that, Elaine. What is it?"

"There are six names here. And every one of them is in prison -- for a very long time."

"Dammit, I thought I had it!" Ray ran a hand though his hair, then laid his head on the desk.

"Ray, are you all right?" Elaine put a hand on his shoulder.

"No, I'm not, Elaine. I'm tired, I'm hungry, I hurt, and I'm worried sick about Fraser. What the hell do I do now? Add to that the fact that a serial killer is out there carving people up and leaving the bodies with Canadian flags. Would you be all right?"

"Probably not. Do you think the two are related?"

"What two are related?"

"What happened to Fraser and the murders... Canadian flags? Fraser is Canadian, after all."

Ray got the strangest look on his face. He suddenly jumped up and gave Elaine a big hug. "Elaine, I was wrong about you. You're not the best, you're better than the best. No one is better than you."

"What are you mumbling about, Vecchio?"

"Canadians -- Canadian drug dealers. Maybe this has to do with a case Benny worked on back in Canada."

"I can access that information from here."

It didn't take very long for Elaine to find the information she needed. "Fraser, Benton, drug related cases -- one -- back in 1986. James McLeod, age 41, suspected of manufacturing illegal drugs. When Fraser went to arrest him, McLeod opened fire. Fraser returned fire and the cabin McLeod was in exploded."

"That's it -- he's dead?"

"Hang on, there's more. McLeod had a son -- Timothy James McLeod, age 15 at the time of his father's death. That would make him 25 now."

"Any info on the son?"

"Fraser's report indicates they struggled after the boy's father was killed. Fraser was knocked unconscious. When he came to, the boy was gone."

"Elaine, I know I've asked a lot of you the last few days, but..."

"I know, I know -- find out anything I can about the son."

"Thank you kindly, Elaine."

Ray kissed Elaine on the right cheek. "That's from me..." Then he kissed her on the left cheek. "...and that's from Fraser. Elaine, you're wonderful, and I really mean that."

Elaine blushed, started to say something, then just turned and went to her computer. Ray knew she'd find anything she could on this Tim McLeod character. He just hoped it would be the break they needed.

* * *

"Hello, Mrs. Bartucci. How are you feeling today? Looks like you got another letter from your sister in Cleveland."

"Buongiorno, Steve. I'm fine, and you?" She reached over the porch railing and took her mail.

"Just fine, Mrs. Bartucci. You have a good day, and try to stay cool." Steve walked to the next house and placed their mail in the box. He continued for the rest of his route, occasionally stopping to chat or to accept a cool drink of water. By the time he got back to the Post Office, he looked as if he'd been swimming in Lake Michigan.

Steve checked in with his Supervisor, took a shower, and changed. He finished his paperwork and glanced at the schedule before walking out the door. He was looking forward to a quiet, relaxing evening alone.

* * *

Dr. Sheldon entered the padded cell with an orderly. Fraser was curled up asleep. The doctor shook Fraser's shoulder gently. "Constable Fraser... Constable Fraser, wake up." Fraser slowly opened his eyes. "Time to go, Constable. We're moving you to a private room." Fraser stretched and sat up. "How are you feeling?"

"Very tired and weak. My headache has lessened, but hasn't completely dissipated."

"I'll be giving you a complete examination once you're moved. In fact, you'll be undergoing quite a few tests in the next several days. We need to determine if there's been any permanent damage."

"Understood. How long will I be required to stay in the hospital?"

"I don't know yet. Let's get the tests run first, then I can give you a more accurate answer."

"Thank you kindly, doctor."

Dr. Sheldon and the orderly helped Fraser to the door. The orderly then wheeled Fraser to a private room on the tenth floor where Benton showered and changed into a hospital gown. A nurse came in a few minutes later. She took Fraser's temperature, checked his blood pressure, and took a blood sample. Before leaving she asked, "Can I get you anything, Mr. Fraser?"

"Would it be possible to get a cup of tea?"

"I think I can manage that. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Thank you kindly." Ben lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He was so tired. He tried to piece together what had happened to him, but found he couldn't concentrate. All he could think about was sleep. He soon drifted off.  



	2. Chapter 2

See warnings and disclaimers in part 1

* * *

Ben sensed the other person in the room before actually opening his eyes. When he did open them, he smiled at his best friend sitting next to the bed.

"Hiya, Benny."

"Ray... what time is it?"

Ray looked at his watch. "It's a little after seven, why?"

"Oh, no reason. I was just curious as to how long I had been asleep."

"Dr. Sheldon said tiredness was one of the drug's withdrawal symptoms."

"Withdrawal symptoms? So I was definitely drugged?"

"Yea, Benny. We don't know how yet, but someone slipped you amphetamines. The doctor said they were very strong, maybe homemade. I had Elaine run some checks and she came up with a drug case you handled back in '86 -- James McLeod."

"Yes, I remember that case. I hadn't been a member of the Force for very long. It seemed like a routine arrest, but McLeod was killed when the cabin exploded. His son witnessed his death. I felt badly about that."

"Benny, do you think the son would try and get back at you for killing his father?"

"He did threaten me at the time, Ray, but it's been 10 years. Why would he wait so long to exact revenge if that was his intention?"

"Who knows? How do you ever know what goes on inside the head of a lunatic? Anyway, Elaine's trying to find out what happened to the kid. I'll let you know what she comes up with."

"Thanks, Ray. How is your homicide case coming along?"

"You mean homicide cases, Benny. There have been two more murders. No break yet. Hell, I can't even figure out what the victims had in common, if they did have anything in common."

"Can I help?"

"Benny, you have enough problems of your own right now. You just take it easy and get well, ok?"

"Ray, I'm fine. I'm just very tired and run down. I can still think clearly -- at least I think I can."

Ray laughed. "Benny, even if you're only thinking half-clearly, it's better than most people. You rest now, and I'll come by tomorrow night with the case files. We'll take them slowly, but if I see you're getting too tired, I'm leaving, understand?"

"Understood, Ray. On another subject, are you taking care of Diefenbaker?"

"Yea, Benny, he's made himself quite comfortable at the house. All the kids are spoiling him."

"Oh dear... I guess that means he's getting his fill of jelly doughnuts."

"He gets one a day -- no more -- that's the deal. I know you're trying to cure him of his junk food habit. Oh, before I forget, I brought you your razor and shaving cream, toothbrush, mouthwash, brush, and some magazines. I couldn't find any toothpaste. You run out?"

"I don't use toothpaste, Ray. I use tooth powder. And no, I did not run out. I just opened a fresh tin two days ago."

"I'll go back and look again, Benny, but I swear I didn't see any. Oh, everyone at the precinct sends their get well wishes."

"Thank you, Ray. Please give my thanks to the people at the precinct."

"I will. Well, I'd better go and let you get some rest. I'll be back tomorrow night."

"Ray, don't go... please. I... I need to talk to you."

"Sure, Benny. What's wrong?"

"Ray, I want to apologize for everything I said to you while under the influence of the drugs. But, most of all, I want to tell you how sorry I am for hurting you. You know I would never do anything to hurt you intentionally..."

"Fraser, stop it. You don't have to apologize for anything. I know you didn't hurt me on purpose. It was just the drugs making you act like that." Ray took Fraser's hand. "Benny, you're my best friend. I understand, and it's ok... really it is."

"Thank you for being so understanding, Ray. I consider you to be my best friend as well."

"I know. Is there anything you need?"

"Nothing I can think of."

"Then I'll say good night. You take care, Benny."

"Good night, Ray. Thank you for everything."

Ray gave Fraser's arm a light squeeze and headed for the door. "Benny, if you need anything..."

"I know, Ray. Thanks."

Ray just nodded and stepped through the door.

* * *

The last movement of Beethoven's 9th Symphony could just be heard as Steve sipped his drink on the patio. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, totally relaxed, oblivious to the figure creeping along the fence.

The stalker peered around the corner of the house. Steve was still sitting in the chair with his eyes closed. A gloved hand pulled a hunting knife from its sheath as the intruder silently crept closer to his victim. Beethoven's Symphony ended -- and so did Steve's life -- with a single thrust to the heart. The killer arranged Steve's arms so they were resting in his lap. He took a small Canadian flag from his pocket and placed it in Steve's right hand. Satisfied with his work, the killer hopped over the fence and blended with the darkness.

* * *

"Constable Fraser, am I disturbing you?" Dr. Sheldon asked as he peered into the room.

"No, doctor, not at all. Please come in, and call me Ben."

"You're going to have a busy day tomorrow. I've scheduled an electroencephalogram, echoencephalogram, electrocardiogram, echocardiogram, and a Doppler echocardiogram for you. We'll be performing an MRI on Friday. Are there any questions I can answer for you?"

"Not about the tests, however, what can you tell me about the drug found in my system?"

"As I told Detective Vecchio, it's a form of amphetamine. I've never seen anything like it before. We're doing further analysis to get its exact chemical makeup. There wasn't much of the drug in your system when you were brought in, but you were exhibiting symptoms consistent with someone who had ingested a large dose, or who was a habitual user. This led me to believe the drug was extremely potent. You could easily have overdosed."

"Assuming the drug was homemade, what type of individual could manufacture it?"

"If it's as complex as I believe it is... someone with a degree in Chemistry at least, but they'd have difficulty purchasing the chemicals necessary unless they were a doctor or pharmacologist."

"Interesting... thank you, Dr. Sheldon."

"You're welcome, Ben. A nurse will be coming by shortly to get a blood and urine sample from you. Try and get a good night's sleep."

"Sleeping hasn't been a problem -- it's staying awake I have difficulty with."

"Well, once the drug is purged from your system, I don't think that will be a recurring problem. I'll be by in the morning to check on you. Good night."

"Good night, doctor." The nurse came by later and got the samples she needed. A few minutes later Fraser was asleep.

* * *

Ray scrambled through the door of the 27th Precinct. He was late -- again. He hadn't meant to oversleep, but since he didn't get to bed until after 2:00 a.m., well... it was understandable that he wouldn't want to get up at 7:00. Welsh would understand. He'd probably grumble and give him a lecture, but he'd understand after Ray explained. He always did.

After Ray left the hospital, he'd driven around for awhile, finally ending up at Grant Park. There was so much going on in his life that Ray just needed a moment for himself. Instead of relaxing, his mind kept going over the killings and what had happened to Fraser. He decided the murders didn't bother him as much as what had happened to his friend. He still couldn't comprehend why anyone would want to hurt Benny. The man was practically a saint -- Ray chuckled at the thought -- Saint Fraser of Canada. He just hoped Benny was going to be all right. The doctor and Fraser had both assured him, but Ray still wasn't convinced. He knew what drugs did to people. Ray sat on a park bench thinking about Fraser and thinking about his family, and the next thing he knew it was 1:30 in the morning. When he finally got home and went to bed, he was totally exhausted.

Ray went to his desk and just stared. He couldn't see the desk top because it was covered with computer printouts, manila folders, photos, and bags of evidence. Ray slumped in the chair. He definitely needed a long vacation, preferably on a deserted island somewhere. He closed his eyes. What a lovely thought... palm trees, tropical breezes, and...

"Vecchio, you're late. In my office." Welsh yelled across the squad room.

Ray winced. He didn't like the tone of Welsh's voice -- the tone that meant you were either going to get a long lecture, or your ass was in deep trouble. Ray couldn't tell by Welsh's expression which one it was.

"Close the door, Ray, and sit down."

There were two suits with Welsh. "Detective Vecchio, I'd like you to meet Agents Hendricks and Sullivan of the FBI. They're here to assist us in solving the serial killings. The FBI has graciously provided us with a profile of our killer."

Ray looked them over. They were both dressed in dark blue suits, but that's where the similarity ended. Agent Hendricks was about 6' tall and 180 pounds with sandy hair and blue eyes. He looked more like a GQ model than an FBI agent. Agent Sullivan was 5'10" and 175 pounds of pure muscle. Thoughts about not wanting to meet this guy in a dark alley ran through Ray's mind.

"Agent Ford didn't have anything to do with preparing this, did he?" asked Ray.

Agent Sullivan answered. "Agent Ford was reassigned to our Bureau in Alaska after his bungling of the Bolt affair."

"Good." Welsh gave Vecchio a dirty look.

"Detective Vecchio," Agent Hendricks began. "Your dislike of Agent Ford is well known. I just hope you don't think all our agents are as incompetent as he was."

Ray wasn't sure he'd heard him correctly. Someone besides himself actually thought Agent Ford was incompetent? "If you stay out of my way and let me do my job, we'll get along just fine."

"We're here to assist and offer guidance, Detective Vecchio." Agent Sullivan said. "You're free to handle this case in any way you choose. We just want to catch this guy... the same as you do." Sullivan turned to Lieutenant Welsh. "Lieutenant, you have our profile of the suspect. We'll keep in touch. Detective Vecchio." Agents Sullivan and Hendricks shook both men's hands and exited the office.

"Vecchio..." The phone interrupted Welsh. "Welsh here. What? Where? Ok, Vecchio's on it." Welsh hung up the phone and handed Ray a piece of paper.

"Don't tell me it's another murder, Lieutenant."

"I'm afraid so."

Ray headed out the door mumbling under his breath. This was not the way he had planned to start his day. FBI agents, running off to murder scenes -- and he hadn't even had his first cup of coffee! What else could go wrong?

* * *

Ray pulled up to the crime scene and parked. He was glad he'd stopped and gotten some coffee. At least he was reasonably awake. He walked through the house to the patio and headed for the body.

"Hey Vecchio, over here," Pete Thompson yelled.

"Whatcha got, Pete?"

"Looks like our killer made his first mistake." Pete pointed to a spot next to some hedges. There, in the soft dirt, was a perfectly preserved foot print.

"Finally, something concrete we can use. It looks like a boot print."

"That's cause it is, Ray -- U.S. Army issue."

"Good work, Pete. Thanks." At last something was going right. Ray finished his investigation and went back to the precinct.

* * *

Benton Fraser's day began at 6:00 a.m. when a nurse came by to get another blood and urine sample, and to check his temperature and blood pressure. He spent the next several hours being poked, prodded, scanned, and tested in every imaginable way possible. He'd only been back in his room a short time when Dr. Sheldon and another doctor joined him.

"Hello, Ben, how are you feeling?"

"Exhausted actually. Now I know how a lab animal must feel."

"We did put you through a lot today. I promise we won't stay long. Ben, I'd like you to meet Dr. Norman, our staff physiotherapist. He'll be working with you for the next several weeks."

Fraser looked up at Dr. Norman. He stood 6'3" and weighed at least 220 pounds. He had broad, powerful shoulders and well defined biceps, aptly suited for his profession. His head was covered with fine, blond hair, and his eyes... his eyes reminded the mountie of a northern pine forest, deep green and calming.

Ben extended his hand. "How do you do, Dr. Norman."

"Constable Fraser, I've been looking forward to this meeting." Dr. Norman gripped Ben's hand tightly in his large and muscular one, and shook it.

"Have we met before, Dr. Norman? You look familiar to me."

"I did observe several of the tests today. Perhaps you saw me then."

"Perhaps." Ben studied Dr. Norman's face. Something about him was sending warning signals to his intuitive senses.

"Well, we'd better let you get some rest. I'll see you later, Ben."

"Thank you, Dr. Sheldon. It was good to meet you, Dr. Norman."

"And you, Constable. You and I are going to get to know each other very well. Make sure you get plenty of rest. You're going to need all your strength."

The two physicians left the room. Ben closed his eyes. He had seen Dr. Norman before. If he could only remember...

* * *

"Ray, you're not going to believe this." Elaine said as she sat down.

"What's that, Elaine?"

"I found Tim McLeod."

"McLeod... oh, Fraser's case. You did? Where is he?"

"Constable McLeod is stationed in Nanaimo, British Columbia."

"Constable!? He's a Mountie?"

"Fraid so, Ray. Not only is he a Mountie, but a very decorated one. He has several commendations for bravery, and received a medal of valor last year for saving another officer's life. Doesn't sound like this is your guy."

"Guess not, Elaine." Ray laughed. "I wonder if Fraser told him any Inuit stories... Well, Benny'll be happy to hear the kid turned out all right. You got a number for him?"

"Yea, and an e-mail address too. I printed out all the info and put it in the file."

"Thanks, Elaine."

"You're welcome. Can I do anything else?"

"Yea, you can tell me what happened to all the stuff that was on my desk. When I left this morning, I distinctly remember bags of evidence and paperwork being here."

"Welsh had everything moved to the conference room. From now on, that's your base of operations for the serial killings."

"The conference room. Well, at least now I'll have some privacy." Ray gathered up a few things and went down the hall to his new office. Several desks and tables had been moved in along with phones and a computer. The once bare walls now held both a chalk and white board, as well as a city map. Push pins marked the location of each homicide.

Agent Sullivan turned as Ray entered the room. "Detective Vecchio, grab a desk and make yourself comfortable."

"Thanks. You set this place up pretty quick."

"Unfortunately we're setting them up more and more often. This isn't something I want to become proficient at. Let me give you the grand tour." Agent Sullivan showed Ray around the room, acclimating him to each section, and explaining its function. "We'll have a portable copier and fax machine in here this afternoon."

"I'm impressed... mmm, you got a first name Agent Sullivan?"

"Call me Gil; you're Ray, right?"

"Yea. It's always a pleasure to work with a professional. I'm glad the FBI sent you to handle this one."

"Why thank you, Ray. I have a confession to make. The Bureau was going to send another agent to investigate this case. He was less than enthusiastic about working with you, especially after reading Agent Ford's reports. I volunteered to come in his place, but for a purely selfish reason. I wanted to meet Constable Benton Fraser. I was sure Agent Ford invented him, until I saw the news coverage of the Randall Bolt affair. I understand the two of you are close friends. Could you introduce me?"

Ray didn't mean to laugh, but he couldn't imagine anyone asking to come to Chicago just to meet a mountie, especially a mountie like Fraser! "I'm sorry, Gil. It's just that most law enforcement people try to avoid Fraser. He takes a bit of getting used to."

"That's all right. It must sound like a strange request. I did some inquiring, and despite his unorthodox methods, Constable Fraser is regarded as an excellent police officer. He's received numerous citations and commendations for his efforts in apprehending criminals, as well as his volunteer work with the Inuit."

"You wanna join his fan club?"

It was Gil's turn to laugh. "You already know all this, don't you? I'm sorry. He's a bit of an enigma, isn't he?"

"Benny's just... Benny. I don't know how to describe him, except as a good friend, and I don't think I can introduce you just now. Fraser's in the hospital."

"Nothing serious I hope."

"It could've been worse. Someone slipped him amphetamines and he freaked out. The doctor thinks he's gonna be ok, but he wants to run all kinds of tests to be sure. Benny's not allowed visitors, except family, and I'm his only family."

"You're related to Constable Fraser?"

"No, no, not blood related. Benny doesn't have any real family, so he listed me as his next of kin. And actually, my mother sorta adopted him into our family."

"I see, well, if there's a chance, I really would like to meet him."

"I'll see what I can do. For now, would you settle for meeting his wolf?"

"He has a wolf?"

"Diefenbaker; I'm wolf-sitting while Benny's in the hospital. You're officially invited to the Vecchio house for dinner tonight, but I have to warn you, it's like nothing you've ever seen before."

"Thanks for the invitation. I'll consider myself warned."

"Six o'clock ok?"

"That's fine."

"I'll pick you up at your hotel. Where you stayin?"

"The Drake. I'll be out front."

"See you then." Ray went back to the squad room. He was really beginning to like Gil. He sure was a lot different from Fraser. Which reminded him, he had to get the case files and bring them to the hospital when he went to visit Benny. He'd call the hospital and check on him before leaving the office. But for right now, he had reports to complete.

* * *

Megacomp Corporation's headquarters were located in a modern, 30-story glass office building in the heart of downtown Chicago. E. J. Grayson's office had a magnificent view of Lake Michigan, not that he noticed. Most of his time was spent staring at a computer screen or pouring over program listings. He was Megacomp's lead programmer in the Research and Development area. E.J. was good -- damn good -- at what he did, and he really loved his work. What he didn't enjoy was trying to find a 'bug' in one of his programs, and having it elude him -- like now.

E. J. scanned each line of code again, but he couldn't find the problem. Best just to put it aside for awhile and work on something else. There were new design specs to go over in his ten o'clock team meeting. He'd review them, go to his meeting, and then worry about the bug. He knew he'd find it eventually. He always did.

* * *

Ray reached for the ringing phone on his desk. "Vecchio."

"It's Esther. I've got the autopsy reports on your three victims. They were all killed by a single stab wound to the chest. No other signs of trauma to the body, except on the last victim. His throat was cut before he was stabbed. The edges on all the wounds were jagged, so I'm guessing it's a hunting knife of some kind with a seven-inch serrated blade. Unfortunately there were no fingerprints, hair, or anything else we could use to ID the killer. The full reports are on their way to you."

"What about an Army knife?"

"What?"

"You said it was a hunting knife. Could it have been an Army knife? You know, the kind that Rambo uses."

"Well... I guess it could be, Ray. They're pretty similar. Why?"

"Just making a connection. Pete found a boot print at the last crime scene. Said it was Army issue. Maybe our killer was trained by Uncle Sam."

"That's always a possibility. Do me a favor, huh? Don't send me any new business. I've got a vacation coming up next week."

"New business doesn't include the body your office picked up this morning does it?"

"Ray..."

"Do your best, please?"

"I'll see what I can do. Talk to you later."

"Thanks, Esther. Bye."

"Elaine," Ray yelled. "I need your help please."

Elaine crossed the room and waited at Ray's desk. "Yes, detective."

"Hi, could you cross-reference all our murder victims and see if any of them were in the service, specifically the Army?"

"Sure. No problem." Elaine went back to her computer terminal.

"Thank you." Ray called after her.

* * *

Fraser jerked awake at the pricking sensation in his arm. He looked up to find Dr. Norman standing next to the bed, an empty hypodermic in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Ben. I didn't mean to wake you."

"What did you inject me with?" Fraser asked, his warning signals going off again.

"It's just a vitamin compound -- something to build up your strength before we start our sessions. I said you were going to need all your strength. The physical therapy will be very grueling. We don't want to jeopardize your health any further."

"I see. Does Dr. Sheldon know about this?"

"Of course he does. Is there something bothering you Ben? You almost sound paranoid."

"No... it's nothing. I guess I am a bit paranoid, considering what's happened to me. I'm very sorry Dr. Norman. Please forgive me."

Dr. Norman placed his hand on Ben's, caressing it gently. "That's quite all right, it's a natural reaction. No offense taken. You get some rest now. I'll be back later tonight to give you another injection." Dr. Norman released Ben's hand and left the room.

Ben didn't trust him, but had no concrete reason why. Maybe he was just overreacting because of the drugs. Not everyone was out to get him. That was something Ray would think. Great, now he was thinking and acting like Ray. He was a bad influence on him. Ben smiled. No, Ray was a wonderful influence on him, and a good friend.

Ben grabbed a magazine from the bedside table and turned on the overhead light. He'd just read until Ray came to visit. Ben smiled again. He really was looking forward to seeing Ray. Ben hadn't realized how much he missed him. He opened the magazine and started reading, hoping it would take his mind off Dr. Norman.

* * *

E. J. walked back to his office after grabbing another cup of coffee. This was just what he needed -- another redesign and schedule change. The whole production schedule had been pushed up two weeks, which meant he'd better find that damn bug real fast. He spread the program listing out on his table again and started rechecking code. He flipped to the second page and... there it was! He knew he'd find it. It was a simple matter of changing one line and resubmitting the job. No sweat. All he had to do now was wait for the job to run and get his printout. He was sure there'd be no other problems. He turned his attention to the next project on his schedule and began sketching out the flowchart.

* * *

Ray had spent an exhausting day catching up on all his case files. It had been a long time since he'd spent so much time in the office. He was looking forward to a quiet uneventful evening. The Riv pulled up in front of the Drake at exactly 6:00 p.m. As promised, Gil was waiting out front.

"Hi, hope you're hungry." Ray said as Gil closed the door.

"Starving."

"Great, let's go." Ray pulled from the curb and headed home. The two men chatted briefly before turning onto Octavia Avenue. "Well, here we are. Remember Gil, my family only attacks the ones they love."

Gil stared at Ray. "What?"

"You'll see. C'mon." Ray led the way to the front door.

* * *

Ray wasn't joking when he said dinner at the Vecchio house was like nothing Gil had ever seen before. Gil still couldn't figure out how they managed to eat while screaming at each other. His ears were still ringing when Ray dropped him back at the hotel.

"Good night Ray. Thanks for the dinner. It was... very interesting."

"Yea. I did warn you. Night Gil. See you tomorrow." Ray pulled the car into traffic and headed for the hospital. He still had a long evening ahead of him.

* * *

Ray signed in at the 10th floor nurse's station. He walked down the hall, knocked on Fraser's door, and poked his head in.

"Come in, Ray."

"Hiya, Benny, how ya doin?"

"I'm feeling much better, thank you. I met my physiotherapist today."

"Physiowhatsit, Benny?"

"Physiotherapist. He will design and implement an exercise program for me to help build up my strength. He's already begun by giving me a vitamin injection. He said he would return and give me another one later this evening."

"This Dr. Norman got a first name?"

"Harold, why?"

"Just gonna do some checkin."

"Ray, you don't suspect Dr. Norman?"

"Until we catch the person who drugged you Benny, everyone and everything is suspect. Understand?"

"Understood."

"Now, I brought my case files. Do you still want to look at them?"

"Yes, Ray. I said I would help." The two friends spent the next several hours going over the four homicides. Ben laid the last file down and said, "Ray, these people have nothing in common. The killer appears to be choosing his victims at random."

"Damn! I hoped you wouldn't say that Benny. Now we don't have a snowball's chance of catching this guy unless he walks into a police station and confesses. And we know how likely that is, right?"

"I'm sorry, Ray. I wish I could have been more help. Perhaps if you find some additional information..."

"It's ok, Fraser. Thanks for tryin. Hey, it's gettin late. I better go before they throw me outta here. I'll stop by tomorrow night, ok?"

"I look forward to it, Ray. Good night. Drive safely."

"I will. Hey, Benny, you sure you're gonna be ok?"

"Yes, Ray. Everything's all right now. I feel much better, thank you."

"Ok, good night. Call me if you need me." Ray gathered up his files, gave Ben's shoulder a light squeeze, and headed home.

* * *

E. J. dropped his briefcase on the bed and started getting undressed. At least he found the bug in his program. Now he could put it on the Production System for a thorough testing. He went into the bathroom and got in the shower. Later, he warmed some dinner and sat down to enjoy the Bulls' game, or what was left of it. He couldn't concentrate on the game, so he went to his office and turned on the computer. Maybe he could get some work done before going to bed. He read through his e-mail and posted several responses before dialing into Megacomp's mainframe. He'd been working for about 30 minutes when the power went out. "Damn!" he cried. E. J. reached in the desk drawer and pulled out the flashlight he kept there. He got up and made his way to the patio door, opened it and stepped outside. His neighbors on both sides still had power -- their lights were on. Strange. E. J. was reaching for the fuse box when the attacker struck. He turned the power back on, pulled E. J.'s body back into the house, and placed him in front of his computer. He placed a Canadian flag in E. J.'s hand, turned, and exited the house.

* * *

"Is that you, Raimondo?"

Ray walked into the living room. His mother was sitting on the sofa, obviously waiting for him. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Ma, don't you think I'm a little old for you to be waitin up for me?"

"I wanted to know how Benton was doing. Is he any better?"

"Yea, he's feelin a lot better. He even looks better. He's gonna be startin physical therapy to help build up his strength. I'll tell him you were worried when I see him tomorrow night."

"You give him my love and tell him he's in my prayers."

"I will, Ma. Now go to bed, it's late."

"Good night, Raimondo."

* * *

Ray went to his room and got ready for bed. His mind kept going over the killings. He'd been so sure that Benny would have the answers he needed to solve this mess. God, was he that dependent on Fraser? No, not exactly dependent. Ray admired and respected Fraser's abilities, and considered him an equal. He consulted with him just as if he were his partner. Fraser might as well be his partner considering the amount of time they spent together handling cases. Ray turned off the light and tried to get some sleep. He'd worry about the killings tomorrow.

* * *

Dr. Norman returned a few minutes past ten to give Fraser another injection. "I'd like you to start moving around Ben. Take a walk around the floor after breakfast tomorrow, but go slowly. Don't overdo it. If you feel yourself getting tired, I want you to stop. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Good, now you get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning. Good night, Ben."

"Good night, Dr. Norman."

* * *

Northwestern University's Chicago campus lay sprawled out on 20 acres between Lake Michigan and the city's famous "Magnificent Mile". With 7,000 graduate students, 3,500 undergraduate students, and 2,000 professional students, it was difficult to find a place to be alone with one's thoughts -- unless you worked in one of the research labs. These buildings were open 24 hours a day, allowing students to monitor their experiments whenever necessary.

Randy Eberhardt made his way along East Superior Street toward the Searle Medical Research Building. The humidity, almost unbearable during the day, was still oppressive, even at 11:00 p.m. He looked forward to the comfort the air conditioned lab would provide. The grad student crossed North Fairbanks Court and reached his destination five minutes later. He signed in at the security station.

"Good evening, Dr. Eberhardt. Gonna be workin late again?"

"Hi Sam. Yea, looks like it. Can't win the Nobel Prize if I'm home sleeping, can I?"

"No, I don't suppose you can. Well, I guess I'll see you in the morning."

"Ok, Sam." The young doctor walked over to the elevator banks and inserted his security card. He entered as the door opened and pressed the button for the third floor. Randy walked along the deserted corridor, his footsteps echoing off the gray linoleum. He inserted his security card into the electronic lock and punched in his code; the access light changed from red to green and the door opened with an audible hiss. Dr. Eberhardt flipped on the overheads and secured the door behind him. It was going to be a very long night.

* * *

He siphoned off the liquid and spread the white crystalline powder into a tray for drying. The doctor shook his head and grinned at the irony of the situation. He was a physician working on his master's degree in pharmacology; yet in exchange for $30,000, he had agreed to manufacture and deliver five kilos of crystal meth. He'd already given three to his 'connection', and was finishing a fourth tonight. Randy didn't trust the distributor; in fact, he gave him the creeps. He'd be glad when it was all over and he could get on with the rest of his studies.

He stifled a yawn as he put the tray in the lab's oven and set the temperature. Dr. Eberhardt looked up at the clock -- 8:12 a.m. -- another hour and he could go home and get some sleep. He walked back over to the lab bench and funneled the contents of the other trays into a large plastic bag. The drugs in the oven needed to dry completely before he could add them to the bag. All he could do now was wait.

* * *

Ray walked into the Operations Center and headed straight for the coffee pot. Dief headed for the open box of doughnuts on the table.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing? Don't even think about snatchin one of those doughnuts."

The wolf gave the cop one of his best 'who, me?' looks and whined pitifully.

"Don't give me that big-eyed wolf look. It might work on Fraser, but not on me. I'm onto your act. Besides, your gonna get fat."

Diefenbaker glanced at the doughnuts, sighed, then crawled under the nearest desk to take a nap.

Ray sat down and quickly checked the stack of messages next to his phone. The latest autopsy report was sitting in the middle of his desk, so he picked it up and started reading. It indicated the last victim had a deep laceration to his arm -- the stitches were still in place -- which meant he'd been to the hospital recently. Ray picked up the phone. "Elaine, could you run a cross-reference on our victims with the local hospitals to see if any of them had been admitted lately or had any outpatient work done? And while you're checking hospital records, see what you can find on a Dr. Harold Norman at Cook County. He's a physiotherapist there. Thanks, Elaine." Ray took a sip of coffee and started making phone calls.

* * *

"All finished Dr. Eberhardt?"

"For now, Sam. I'll be back this afternoon to complete my tests." 'And pick up the drugs I've got hidden in the lab,' he thought. "Bye."

"Good bye. Get some sleep."

* * *

The doctor was looking forward to a shower, some breakfast, and a nap, but not to doing business with the guy waiting on his couch.

"Good morning, Randy. Another long night at the lab?"

"What do you want?" He went into the kitchen to start the coffee. His unwelcomed visitor followed.

"Is that any way to talk to your business partner? You know why I'm here. Where are the drugs?"

"I haven't finished making them. I told you, the school's getting suspicious. They're doing a complete supply inventory. I have to be careful."

"You're behind schedule dammit!" The man slammed his hand against the table for emphasis, making Randy jump. He pushed away from the table, strode across the room, and grabbed the doctor by his shirt. "Look, you little shit, don't think you can jerk me around. I want the rest of the drugs tonight. Do you understand?" He lifted Randy an inch off the ground for emphasis.

"Don't threaten me!" Randy pushed him away. "I know you're the killer the police are looking for, and I won't hesitate to tell them all about you if you push me."

"Is that a fact? Mmmm... well, I guess I'll just have to deal with you then, won't I?" Sunlight gleamed off the knife as he pulled it from its sheath, plunged it into Dr. Eberhardt's chest and twisted. He smiled at the shocked look on his victim's face as he slid to the floor. The killer wiped the blade on the doctor's shirt, placed it back in its sheath, and went to the door, but not before putting a Canadian flag in his ex-partner's hand. He was still smiling as he left the apartment and got in his car.

* * *

Gil came over to Ray's desk and handed him a cup of coffee and a computer printout. "You got a response on your inquiry."

"Oh yea? Which one?"

"You asked Elaine to do a search on a Dr. Harold Norman. The name tripped a red flag in our database. He's wanted for sexual misconduct in six states and two Canadian provinces, all of them involving male patients."

Ray read through the printout. "He drugs them and then... oh shit! I think I'm gonna be sick." Vecchio jumped out of his chair and started toward the door. "Are you comin or not?"

"What's your hurry?"

"This pervert is Fraser's physiotherapist."

"Oh, god..."

* * *

The Chicago detective broke numerous traffic laws getting to the hospital. He and Agent Sullivan found Dr. Norman in the mountie's room.

"Hold it right there!" Ray pulled his gun and pointed it at the bewildered doctor. "Hands up and move against the wall. Now!" Dr. Norman complied with the detective's wishes, and within two minutes was cuffed, read his rights, and led away by Agent Sullivan.

"Ray, would you mind telling me what's going on?" A totally confused Fraser asked.

"Dr. Norman's wanted for sexual misconduct with his patients, Benny. He... he drugs them and then... well... he does sick things to them, ok?" Ray was visibly upset.

"I see. Was he wanted in Canada?"

"What? Oh yea... Gil said somethin about some Canadian provinces. Why?"

"When we first met, I thought he'd looked familiar. I just wondered if it was because I saw him on a wanted poster. It's not important now, Ray. I guess I should thank you. For once your mistrust of people paid off."

"He didn't try anything with you, did he Benny? Try to touch you or... well, you know?"

"No, Ray. All he ever did was touch my hand. He never tried to get... intimate with me."

"Good thing for him. Hey, I better get outta here and interrogate my suspect. Maybe he has somethin to do with these serial killings, too. I'll see you later, ok Benny?"

"Yes, Ray. Thank you again. You're a good friend."

"You, too, Benny." Ray went to catch up with the FBI agent and his prisoner.

* * *

Dr. Norman was processed and left alone in the interrogation room while Veccio and Sullivan conferred outside.

"What do you think, Ray?"

"I don't know. He seems too cooperative... too willing to help us. It doesn't feel right, especially considering the kind of sentence he's gonna get."

"Ray, we've got ten victims who positively identified Dr. Norman as their attacker. He knows we've got him nailed. Maybe he figures if he cooperates, it'll look good to the judge. Remember, this guy's sick. Who knows how his mind works."

"Yea, I guess you're right. C'mon, let see what kind of answers he has."

The two officers entered the room and took positions in front and to the right of the prisoner. Vecchio dropped a file on the table and leaned close to Dr. Norman.

"That's the case file on your ten victims. It contains their sworn statements detailing everything you did to them. And they all positively identified you as their attacker. Now, what I want to know is how you drugged Constable Fraser. Did you make them yourself, or did you have help?"

Dr. Norman looked at the detective quizzically. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't drug Ben. I just gave him vitamin injections."

"Yea, just like you gave all your other victims vitamin injections. That's how it starts out, isn't it? You get them to trust you, then you make your move. Inject them with some kind of paralyzing drug? Then you take them someplace secluded and perform perverted sex acts on them. Am I right? Isn't that what you had planned for Fraser?" Ray was right in the doctor's face now.

"I admit to doing those things to the other people, but I didn't do anything to Ben, I swear."

"But you were going to? You wanted to?"

Dr. Norman dropped his head and answered. "Yes... I wanted him. I was going to..."

"You sick son of a bitch!" Ray grabbed the doctor by his shirt and tried to drag him across the table. Agent Sullivan pulled him away and ushered him out the door.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Ray? Are you trying to get this case thrown out? If you can't handle this, let me know now so I can get Welsh to assign another officer."

Vecchio was shaking. "I'm... oh, god... I'm sorry, Gil. I don't know what happened in there. The thought of him doin those things to Fraser... You go back in. Just give me a few minutes, huh?"

Gil placed his hand on Ray's shoulder and squeezed. "Take as long as you need. I understand." He turned and went back into the interrogation room.

Ray went to the men's room and splashed cold water on his face. This wasn't good. He'd almost lost it. He'd really wanted to beat the shit out of Dr. Norman. The detective took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 'Ok, Vecchio, you're going back in there and you're going to behave like a professional. You can't help Fraser actin like some rookie just out of the Academy. You can do this. You can.' Checking himself in the mirror, Detective Vecchio went to join Gil to finish questioning the prisoner.

* * *

Agent Sullivan didn't look happy as he sat down next to Ray's desk.

"Hey, Gil. Is something wrong?"

"Yea, you might say something's wrong. John's been called back to Washington to testify on a case he handled about a year ago. The Bureau isn't sending another agent to replace him. Something to do with limited manpower and budget cuts."

"How's that gonna affect the investigation?"

"I'm not sure. The whole purpose of having two agents on the scene is so someone is always manning the Operations Center. If some critical piece of information comes in, they can relay it to the agent in the field, otherwise valuable time could be lost."

"Hey, maybe I could convince the Lieutenant to assign Elaine to us temporarily. She really is a genius when it comes to computers, and she's a damn good cop, too. But don't tell her I said so, or I'll never hear the end of it." The last was followed by a wide grin.

"That would be great, Ray. Let me know if you'd like me to speak to Lieutenant Welsh in an 'official' capacity."

"I don't think I'll have any trouble, but thanks for the offer."

"No problem." He paused for a moment, and when he resumed the conversation his tone was very serious. "Ray, could we talk about what happened with Dr. Norman in interrogation? I get the feeling there's a lot more going on than you're telling me. This is all about Fraser, isn't it?"

"Yea... I guess it is. I didn't realize how much like family Fraser was, or how much I cared about him until now. And... well, I know this is gonna sound silly, but I've always thought of Fraser as bein kinda invincible. Like he was so good that nothin could hurt him. You know what I'm sayin?"

"Yes, Ray, I do. I had a partner like that. It didn't matter if we were in the field, on a stakeout, or in pursuit -- he always looked like he'd just finished a photo session for GQ -- never a hair out of place; never a wrinkle. In the three years we were partnered, I'd never heard him swear, not even once. I'd tease him about it constantly. Then one day we stumbled on a drug buy and one of the dealers pulled a shotgun and... well... Bill died in my arms. It took me a long time to get over it. So, yea... I know exactly how you feel about Fraser."

An awkward silence followed, broken by Elaine's entrance into the room. She handed Gil a piece of paper. "Sorry..."

"What is it, Gil?"

"They just found our sixth victim."

* * *

A housekeeper had found the body. She was still pretty upset when Vecchio and Sullivan questioned her. They'd also questioned D. Martin Watterson, PhD, the Chair of Molecular Pharmacology and Biological Chemistry at the University. Dr. Eberhardt had been a student of his. Dr. Watterson couldn't understand why someone would want to kill the young doctor. He'd been well liked by all his associates and professors.

After the interviews, Ray, Gil, and Dief went over to the Searle Medical Research Building to search Dr. Eberhardt's lab. Sam Evans, the security guard, accompanied them. They'd been in the lab less than a minute when Dief began pawing at the floor and barking. Ray went over to him.

"Whatcha got, Dief?"

Ray examined the area where Dief was scratching. One of the floor tiles appeared to be loose. He pried it up with his pen and let out a low whistle. "Well, it looks like Dr. Eberhardt had a little business on the side." Ray pulled out the plastic bag and held it up for Gil to see.

"Well, Ray, looks like we might have found the person who drugged Fraser."

"Or maybe he made the drugs for the killer, and he decided the doctor knew too much and knocked him off to keep him quiet."

"That makes more sense. We'll send this over to the lab and have it analyzed. It looks like crystal meth, but it's been awhile since I worked narcotics."

They looked around the rest of the lab, but didn't find anything else which would give them a lead on the killer. They left the building and went back to the precinct.

* * *

"Ok, the note says there's gonna be seven deaths altogether."

"Yes, but what about this line, Ray? 'Six together hold the key to the seventh's fate.' It almost sounds like the first six have something to do with the seventh victim."

"Yea, but how? None of the victims knew each other and we've determined they have nothing in common."

"There has to be something. Wait..." Gil went over to the blackboard and grabbed a piece of chalk. "Read me the victim's names in the order they were killed."

Ray went down the list and read the names while Agent Sullivan wrote them on the blackboard. Elaine walked in just as they'd finished.

"Oh, no..." she said.

Ray turned around. "Elaine, what's wrong?"

"Don't you see it? Look at the names."

The two men turned and looked closely at the names written on the blackboard:

Frank Richardson  
Ralph McMillin  
Alvin Medrano  
Steve Franklin  
E. J. Grayson  
Randy Eberhardt

Ray turned back. "I'm sorry, Elaine, I don't see anything."

The civilian aide walked over to the blackboard and drew a circle encompassing the first letters of the victim's first names. "Can you see it now? F - R - A - S - E - R."

"Oh, god... The six names spell Fraser. That's what the note meant. Fraser's the seventh victim. But how did the killer find people with the right letters in their names?"

Elaine answered. "They've all been treated as outpatients at Cook County Hospital within the past six months." She handed Ray a stack of printouts.

"What did I tell you, Gil?" Ray gave Elaine a big grin.

"Ok, Ray, what's..."

The phone interrupted Elaine's question.

"Vecchio. Constable McLeod... hello. Thanks for returning my phone call. I thought you might be able to provide some information on a case I'm handling. It involves a Constable Benton Fraser... yea, he's the same one. Someone drugged him, and the doctor said the amphetamines were homemade. Well, yea, I thought there might be a connection between you... uh, huh... You have a step-brother? Would he... He said he'd get Fraser no matter what. Where is he now? Whaddya mean you don't know!? He escaped!? Do you have a picture of him? Ok, look... can you fax it to me? Great, the number is... uh... just a sec... (312) 555-6349. Yea... I know. Thanks. I'll let you know if we find anything. Bye."

"What was that all about?"

"I thought I had a lead on who might have drugged Fraser. He's only handled one drug case during his career, and it was back in '86. A father and son were involved. The father was killed and the son ran away. The son is now a mountie. That's who was on the phone. Now, it turns out that he has a step-brother who swore he'd get Fraser for killing their dad. The step-brother escaped from a psychiatric hospital about six months ago. No one knows where he is. Constable McLeod is going to fax us all the information. This whole case is getting stranger and stranger."

The phone on the fax machine rang a minute later; Ray, Gil, and Elaine waited as the information came through.

"Oh, damn!" Ray ran over to his desk, picked up the phone and called Cook County Hospital.

* * *

"Hello, Ben, how are you feeling?"

"Good afternoon, Dr. Sheldon. I'm feeling quite well, thank you."

"I'm glad to hear it. Since Dr. Norman has been arrested, I'm going to give you your vitamin injection." Dr. Sheldon administered the injection just as Dr. Norman had the past several days. "You should start feeling the effects pretty quickly."

"I beg your pardon? There are no..." The words died on Fraser's lips as sudden paralysis gripped him. He tried to quell the panic rising in his chest as Dr. Sheldon leaned over the bed, his face inches above his own. Fraser could feel his breath, hot against his cheek. A slow smile crept along the doctor's face, sending shivers down the mountie's spine.

"You're mine, Constable."

* * *

Ray spoke to the hospital security chief, Phil Dunbar, and coordinated their efforts, while one of the security officers went to check on the mountie. A few minutes later, the officer reported that Fraser wasn't in his room and one of the nurses remembered seeing him being wheeled away on a gurney.

"Dunbar, we're on our way. Seal off the hospital. I don't want a fly getting out of there, understand?" Ray slammed down the phone.

"Ray, will you please tell me what the hell is going on?"

Ray waved the fax at Agent Sullivan. "Michael McLeod aka Dr. Michael Sheldon. This is the guy who's been treating Fraser. The killer's been right under our noses the whole time."

The two men hurried out the door.

* * *

Fraser was moving along a dimly lit corridor somewhere in the hospital's lower levels. Dr. Sheldon had placed him on a gurney and was taking him... where? Someplace quiet and isolated where he wouldn't be disturbed. No, he wouldn't want to be interrupted while he was killing the mountie. And Fraser was absolutely certain Dr. Sheldon intended to kill him.

The gurney slowed and Fraser was pulled into a brightly lit room. The smell of antiseptic was overpowering. Dr. Sheldon moved away for a few moments, then roughly grabbed Fraser. Something was tied tightly around his upper arm, followed by a pricking sensation.

Dr. Sheldon leaned close to the mountie again. "Let me tell you a story, Constable. It's about a father and his two sons living in Canada. They're trying to run a business -- a very profitable drug business -- when a young RCMP Constable discovers their activities and decides to shut them down. The eldest son is away at the time. When he returns, he finds his home has been destroyed, his father killed, and his little brother on the run. Not a very happy story, eh? But it is one you are familiar with, isn't it? The father's name was James McLeod. Now do you remember, Constable? You killed him, and now I'm going to kill you. I've been plotting my revenge for ten years. I'm going to kill you slowly, and you'll be very aware of everything that's happening to you. That's the great thing about the little drug cocktail I put together -- scopolamine hydrobromide, morphine, and pentobarbital -- it induces a kind of twilight sleep in the patient. I've inserted an IV line into your Cephalic vein, complete with regulator. But instead of fluid flowing in, your blood will be flowing out. Not too quickly, though. I want you to suffer for a long time -- and you will. I guarantee you will."

* * *

Ray arrived at the hospital with six uniformed officers, Dief, and Agent Sullivan in tow. Hospital security had been informed and all the exits were being covered.

Phil Dunbar spread out a set of blueprints across his desk. Vecchio and Sullivan were peering intently at the paper, like seers into a crystal ball.

"If I were going to kill someone," Dunbar began, "I'd take them to the basement or sub-basement. Not a lot of traffic, and lots of nooks and crannies to hide in."

"Ok, let's concentrate our search on those two levels." Vecchio said. Turning to Dunbar, he added, "We'll leave your men covering the exits just in case he tries to slip by us. Radio checks every five minutes. Any questions?"

* * *

The three men met the rest of the officers, then split up to begin searching. Ray and Diefenbaker took the service elevator to the sub-basement level. The Italian detective pulled his gun, praying at the same time he wouldn't have to use it. The door slid open and the two occupants exited. Ray blinked, adjusting his eyes to the change in lighting.

Vecchio knelt down in front of the wolf, looked him straight in the eye and said, "Find Fraser." Dief sniffed the ground, then lifted his head to try and pick up the mountie's scent. He took off down the narrow corridor, stopping occasionally to sniff the air again and ensure he was following the right trail. Ray was right behind him, confident the wolf would lead him to Fraser, and also warn him of any impending danger. He pulled out his radio to call in his position and situation. "This is Vecchio. I want all team members to report to the sub-basement immediately. Diefenbaker's picked up Fraser's trail. I also want a medical team and an operating room standing by just in case. Over and out." Ray followed the wolf around another corner and muttered, "Please, God, let him still be alive."

* * *

"Son?" Sergeant Robert Fraser, RCMP, deceased, looked concerned as he stood over the still form on the gurney. "It's all right, son, I'm here. You're not alone. You've got to hang on a bit longer. Your American friend is on his way with help."

Ben tried to focus on his father, but found he couldn't. All he could see was a kind of hazy mist. He was so cold. He wouldn't die alone though. There was some comfort in that. What was that about Ray? He was on his way? That was good. At least Ray would catch Dr. Sheldon and bring him to justice.

"Benton, just hang on and fight to stay alive. You have to. It's not your time yet. And don't underestimate that Sheldon fellow."

'What? You know what I'm thinking?'

"Yes, son. You see, you're very close to death now. That's why you have to keep fighting. I know you can do it, Benton, if not for me, then for Ray."

'Whatever you say, dad.' What was that noise? It sounded like a dog's bark, but very far away. It must be Dief. I'm going to miss him, but not as much as I'll miss Ray. Perhaps I can visit him like dad used to visit with me.

"Benton! Stop thinking like that. Oh... it's all right now, they're here. I'll see you later, son." And with that, Fraser Sr. disappeared.

* * *

Diefenbaker ran ahead, slowing just long enough for Ray to keep up. Ray had no idea where he was. They'd gone down several long hallways and zigged and zagged so many times he was getting dizzy. He turned another corner and almost tripped over Dief. The wolf was scratching frantically at a closed door. Ray's heart was pounding. He grabbed the handle, turned it, then kicked the door open.

"Police, freeze! Oh my god..." Ray closed his eyes and fought the urge to throw up.

"Not so fast, Detective Vecchio." Dr. Sheldon was standing next to Fraser, holding a vicious looking knife at his throat. The floor was covered with blood, and Ray could see more of it running from a tube on the side of the gurney.

"Back off, Sheldon. It's over. You've got nowhere to run."

"I have no intention of running, Detective. I'm just going to stand here next to the Constable for, oh, five minutes or so, then you can do what you want with me. It won't matter. By then Constable Fraser will have bled to death, and my revenge will be complete."

"Step away from him, or I'll shoot." Ray raised his gun so it was level with Sheldon's head. All he had to do was pull the trigger...

"I wouldn't be so eager to shoot if I were you. If you look closely you'll see there's a wire attached to my wrist which runs around the Constable's neck. If I fall over, the wire tightens and acts like a garrotte. So, if you shoot me he dies, and if you do nothing he dies; if you attack me, I simply slit his throat. However you look at it, I win."

"You son of a bitch!" Ray had never felt so helpless in his life. He couldn't just stand by and watch his best friend die. There had to be some way to save Fraser from this psychopath. Ray's eyes drifted from the bloody floor to Fraser. He was so pale. Was he even still alive? He couldn't see him breathing. What if he was too late?

"He's still alive, Yank, but barely. You'll have to move fast to save him."

Ray shook his head in disbelief. He could swear there was a mountie standing next to Dr. Sheldon, and he was talking to him.

"Shoot the wire, Yank. Look, you can see it hanging there from his wrist. You can do it, I know you can. You have to try. Benton's counting on you."

Ray looked where the older Mountie was pointing. It would be a one-in-a-million shot, but it was sure better than just standing there. He lowered his gun and took careful aim. He'd only get one chance. Ray said a silent prayer and pulled the trigger. Dr. Sheldon's hand pulled away from the gurney. Before he had time to react, Ray raised the gun and fired two more times. Both bullets struck Sheldon in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

Vecchio ran to Fraser's side. He pulled the IV from the mountie's arm, then bent the arm back to stop the bleeding. His skin was like ice. The detective felt for a pulse. It was there -- barely. Ray screamed orders into the radio and the place was soon swarming with cops. They rushed Fraser to the ER, where a medical team began a series of blood transfusions to replace what was lost.

* * *

Sometime later, Ray and Diefenbaker sat quietly next to Fraser's bed watching the mountie sleep. His color had returned, and the doctors assured Ray there would be no permanent damage. Dr. Sheldon was dead and the case was officially closed. There'd be lots of paperwork to complete, but it would wait until tomorrow. Right now all Ray could think about was how close he came to losing Fraser. He reached out to touch his friend's hand.

A pair of blue eyes turned to meet his. "Hi."

"Hey, Benny. You're supposed to be sleeping. The doctor said you needed plenty of rest."

"Thank you, Ray." Fraser squeezed his friend's hand.

"Don't thank me. I'm just glad the nightmare's over and you're all right. Now go back to sleep. Dief and I are gonna be right here."

Fraser closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep. Ray leaned back in his chair and tried to do the same.

"Hey,Yank..."

Ray's eyes flew open to find the other mountie standing next to Fraser's bed, dressed in... 'oh, no, not the red jacket', Ray thought. The detective shook his head and closed his eyes again.

"You did good, Ray. I'm proud of you. Benton's very lucky to have you for a friend. I hope he realizes that. Good night."

Ray smiled. He wondered if he should tell Benny that he was seeing his dad's ghost too. Nah -- he'd keep that little secret for another time. Right now he was looking forward to some time off, maybe on a little island somewhere...

The end.

Translations:  
(1) Raymond, what happened?  
(2) Tell me, my son.  
(3) Good night. Raymond, make sure you look after him.


End file.
